


Rescued

by Jacie



Category: NCIS
Genre: Alternate Reality, First Time, M/M, Middle East
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-07-05
Updated: 2010-07-05
Packaged: 2017-11-19 12:31:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,045
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/573288
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jacie/pseuds/Jacie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gibbs and Tony both find themselves alone in the desert in need of rescuing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rescued

**Author's Note:**

> Definitely AR, somewhat inspired by the image of Mark Harmon in Taureg.

Tony had begun doubting his choice of job assignments. This one had promised travel, which he enjoyed. It also involved providing security for a pretty boy television reporter out to make a name for himself and the young cameraman sent along with him.

The reporter was headstrong and didn’t seem to accurately assess the dangers of the areas they traveled in. He rarely, if ever, took Tony’s advice on security. That led to plenty of heated arguments which generally ended up with the reporter telling Tony that his only concern was to get the story and that security and protection were Tony’s problem. 

It also led them to their current situation, which was driving out into the desert with a driver/interpreter that the reporter had met in a small town. Tony hadn’t had a chance to clear the man. He also had strongly advised against driving into the desert with only one vehicle. He had done his research. He knew it was dangerous and risky driving into the desert. Having only one vehicle almost certainly doomed them to death or capture if they broke down.

The reporter sat up front, prattling on with the driver, while the cameraman sat behind the reporter, trying to catch a few moments of sleep as the vehicle rocked and bounced. Tony sat behind the driver, his eyes surveying their surroundings. He watched the ridges for movement, shadows, any indication of potential attack.

They all heard the pop right as the truck swerved wildly, leaving the road and bouncing violently until it hit a large boulder and came to a sudden stop at an awkward angle.

The cameraman rubbed his eyes. “What was that?”

“Just a blowout, kid,” said the reporter, holding onto his shoulder that had been knocked against his door.

Repositioning his sunglasses, Tony looked sharply across the desert. “That wasn’t a tire blowout,” he said firmly. “Driver’s been shot.”

“What?” asked the reporter, reaching across the front seat to shake the driver’s shoulder.

Reaching forward from the backseat, Tony grabbed the driver’s clothing at his neck and jerked him back up. “He has been shot!” he said loudly. “What part of shot don’t you understand?”

“Why?” stammered the cameraman. “Why would anyone shoot our driver?”

“Hard to say, kid,” replied Tony. “Maybe they feel that we’re trespassing on their land. Maybe they don’t like tourists. Or maybe, just maybe, they’re terrorists who don’t like reporters and cameramen stumbling around their locale snooping for information. Damn it! I should have insisted on two trucks.”

Leaning his back toward the cameraman, Tony used the leverage to kick his door open, then climbed out. As his feet hit the ground, he saw they were surrounded by a handful of tribesmen bearing rifles, most of which were pointed at Tony. He instantly raised his hands as he faced the man closest to him.

One of the tribesmen began yelling orders. Tony turned his head to watch as they dragged out their driver’s body, then pulled the reporter and cameraman from the wreckage. The reporter looked unfazed by the ordeal, but the young cameraman was visibly shaking.

“It’s okay, kid,” Tony tried to assure him. His gesture earned him a rifle butt to his stomach.

“Tony!” the cameraman yelled, taking a couple steps toward Tony before the armed tribesmen pointed their weapons at him.

On his knees, Tony clutched his stomach as he caught his breath. “I’m alright, Danny,” he said softly. Looking up, he faced the man who had hit him. The barrel of the man’s rifle pointing at Tony’s head as he began yelling at Tony in his native tongue.

“Look, Abdul, or whatever your name is. The man you killed over there was our driver and interpreter. None of us speaks your language. So yelling at us isn’t going to accomplish anything more than scaring the crap out of Danny over there.” With slow, deliberate moves, Tony regained his footing and stood up. “Danny over there, he just graduated from college and wanted to see the world. I’m just escorting him and his dad around. That’s all. We’re completely harmless. Tourists.”

The reporter scoffed aloud. “Like anyone would believe I’m old enough to be Danny’s father.”

Tony smiled through his gritted teeth. “Not helping.”

An older tribesmen stepped forward, apparently giving orders. The moment the man closest to Tony glanced over to the man speaking, Tony saw his chance. It was a small group, maybe he could get away if he could secure a weapon. Lunging forward, he grabbed the man’s rifle and the pair fell to the ground, scuffling in a dusty cloud for a few moments before the other gunmen ran forward and pulled them apart. Once Tony’s opponent caught his breath, he stepped over to Tony and hit him in the head with the rifle butt.

Danny glanced back briefly as the tribesmen were hustling him and the reporter away. Tony remained where he fell, not moving a muscle.

Hours later, when consciousness returned, Tony’s head pounded. Using his hand, he pressed his palm against his forehead. The bone felt intact, but he could tell he had lost some blood. He could feel the dried blood that left sticky trails down the left side of his face and neck. The heat of the desert sun drained his strength, but he knew he had to take care of his wound. It seemed painfully slow as he directed his fingers to unbutton his shirt. Both his shirt and undershirt were soaked with sweat. 

After removing his undershirt, he did his best to wipe his wound clean. He then pressed his undershirt against the wound, folding it a couple times where it covered the wound, then adjusted his baseball cap, refitting it to hold the shirt tightly against the wound. It took him a couple minutes to put his button-down shirt back on. He only managed to fasten about three of the buttons.

Steadying himself on his hands and knees, Tony managed to crawl about ten feet before collapsing to the ground. Through squinting eyes, he watched as his faint breath barely moved the sand when he exhaled. His thoughts turned to desert predators, but other than man, he couldn’t think of any. Although he had left a bit of his undershirt hanging down from his cap with hopes of protecting his neck, he could feel the sun burning through to his skin as thirst burned his throat. Wanting to move, his hands fisted into the sand, but he didn’t have the strength to pull himself forward.

As the sun moved across the sky, Tony drifted in and out of consciousness. He felt eyes on him, but never could spot the figure of a man when he was able to raise his head enough to look around. By the time evening rolled around, he had managed to move himself another fifteen feet. He was thankful when darkness brought him relief from the sun. Then he felt something else. He was being lifted up. The thought of flying had barely crossed his mind when he fell unconscious again.

Tony drifted in and out of consciousness as he felt himself being carried. All he could see was black, but he could feel the stride of the man who carried him. Tony’s head still pounded, but he didn’t feel he had the strength to fight. Then he suspected that if the man was planning on killing him, it would have been a lot easier to kill him where he’d been found, beside the road, rather than to carry him across the desert. That made it seem more likely that his savior was friend rather than foe.

After a lengthy march through the cooling night air, Tony felt himself lowered to the ground. It felt uneven and uncomfortable as he shifted slightly.

“You must stay awake now,” a voice said. “Drink.”

Tony felt the man lifting his head slightly and offering him water. He reached for the wineskin when the man began to pull it away.

“Not too much.”

“I’m so thirsty.”

“Too much water will make you ill. First we must walk up to the cave. It’s too steep for me to carry you any further. Later you can have more water.”

Tony nodded, looking up at the man who was now standing over him, dressed fully in black, including the turban he wore, which was wrapped so it only showed his eyes. When he offered his hand, Tony took it and rose onto his feet. He stood unsteadily for a couple minutes while he took deep breaths.

“Come,” the man said as he turned and began walking into a bank of rocky crags.

“Right behind you,” Tony called.

“The term is, ‘on your six’.”

“Okay, Boss, on your six.”

It was difficult to follow the man in the darkness across the rough terrain, but the man moved slowly, waiting for Tony when he fell behind. As Tony pushed himself to catch up, he noticed the man wasn’t looking back at him, but surveying the land in the distance.

“See anything interesting out there?” Tony asked, nearly breathless.

“There always seems to be a lot of bad guys in the desert. It’s easier to move at night. They can’t see me well enough to track or shoot, but you, you stand out. Even at night.”

“That explains that fancy rifle you’re carrying. And the black garb. At first I thought maybe you were going for the Johnny Cash look, but now I see it’s only your way of blending into the night.”

“Exactly,” said the man as he began his trek again.

“I’m Tony, by the way,” Tony called after him.

“Move now, talk later,” came the reply.

Tony scrambled upwards through the rocky terrain, occasionally slipping as he attempted to keep up. Just as he thought he couldn’t go any further, he found an opening in the face of the mountain. A faint light shown from within. Tony entered cautiously, looking around the small cave. There was a small pile of clothing, several containers of water, some food and a lot of weapons and ammunition.

“Starting a revolution single handedly, are you?”

“Nope. Just pick up what I find so it doesn’t get into the wrong hands.”

“Nice place you have here.”

“Suits my needs for the time being. Sit, I will bring you something to eat.”

“Bet it has it’s advantages. No utilities. No rent. No taxes.”

For the first time, Tony heard the man laugh.

“I’m Tony, by the way and thank you.”

“Gibbs.”

Tony watched as Gibbs mixed a few ingredients in a pot above a small cooking fire near the cave’s entrance. “Smells good.”

“After you eat, I’ll check your wound.”

“Got a story, Gibbs?”

“Every man has a story.”

“I meant, why are you out here? Alone. Are you into playing good Samaritan? Or spying, perhaps?”

“Collecting intelligence would be a more appropriate term.”

Tony reached for the bowl Gibbs brought to him, blowing gently before tasting. “Not bad Gibbs. Is that meat? Didn’t think there was anything worth hunting in these parts.”

Gibbs was a few feet away removing his turban and shirt. Turning around, he flashed a wry grin. “Terrorists. Definitely worth hunting.”

Tony looked into the bowl, stirring the mixture around, then looked back into Gibbs’ face. “It’s not. Um.”

Gibbs shrugged as he dug a spoon into his own bowl. “Could be goat or maybe sheep.”

“But you won’t tell me which?”

“Does it matter?”

Tony contemplated for a moment, then shook his head as he took another bite. “Guess not. So, how did you find me?”

“Watched you. One truck driving unescorted into terrorist country. Couldn’t help your friends, but I saw they left you behind. Waited until nightfall.”

“They weren’t my friends. A reporter and his cameraman. I was sent along to escort them. Keep them safe.”

“Didn’t do a very good job.”

“I wanted to take two vehicles. That damn reporter fought me all the way, always arguing with me. He never listened to my suggestions.”

“If security was your job, you should have taken two vehicles no matter what he said.”

“You’re right, Gibbs. So, are we going to go save them?”

Gibbs laughed again. “Nope. Two of us against all of them? Not going to happen. They’ll take good care of them and try to trade them.”

“How do you know?”

“Been out here long enough. You pick up things. I promise you, they are in no immediate danger.”

“Why do you think they left me behind?”

“Probably thought you’d be more trouble than you’re worth.”

“Sounds like something my dad would say. You know, that I’m more trouble than I’m worth. So, tell me Gibbs. Why are you out here?”

“Thinking.”

“Thinking?”

“Yep.”

“Care to elaborate?”

“Nope.”

“Are you military?”

“Marine. On leave.”

“You’re American?”

“Yeah.”

“And you’re on leave and you’re hanging out alone here in the desert?”

“Thinking.”

“Okay. Got plans for me?”

“Taking you back to town,” Gibbs said as he moved closer to Tony. “I want to look at your wound. Clean it up a little.”

Tony remained still as Gibbs removed his cap and bloody undershirt, wincing when the fabric pulled at the clotted blood.

“Doesn’t look too bad,” Gibbs said as he dipped the undershirt in a bowl of water, dabbing at the wound. 

Pressing a hand against Gibbs’ stomach, Tony felt the muscles. “You really keep in shape, don’t you.”

“Another advantage to living out here.”

Gibbs had Tony undress, then bathed him fully, washing away the dust and sweat. He then applied a liquid to Tony’s wound and wrapped it once more before moving Tony toward the back of the cave. “Lay down.”

Tony was more than happy to settle back. As he relaxed, he watched Gibbs as he heated some more water and cleaned the bowls and spoons, then used a cloth to bathe himself before dousing the fire and returning to Tony’s side. This time he brought two cups and a bottle.

Sitting up, Tony smiled as he took one of the cups from Gibbs. “You’re idea of a pain killer?”

Gibbs looked down into his own cup, staring into the amber liquid. “Temporary at best,” he said. Lifting the cup, he tapped it lightly against Tony’s. “To life in the desert.”

“Planning on staying out here for a while, Gibbs? You’re not a deserter are you?”

Gibbs tipped his cup up to drain it, before pouring more bourbon into it. “Nope. Just not ready to go back yet. I have some things to think about.”

Tony laughed and placed his hand onto Gibbs’ shoulder. “You keep on thinking, Gibbs. You look like you’re good at it.”

Gibbs topped off the two cups and drank deeply from his own. “I’m good at a lot of things.”

Swaying slightly, Tony sipped at his cup and stared deeply into Gibbs’ eyes. “You have really blue eyes, Gibbs. Don’t know why I didn’t notice that out in the desert.”

“Probably because you were dehydrated and mostly unconscious.”

Tony reached out, rubbing his hand across Gibbs’ beard. “I didn’t think Marines could grow beards.”

“Marines can grow beards as well as any man,” replied Gibbs, taking hold of Tony’s hand.

Clasping his captured hand around Gibbs’, Tony pulled himself slowly closer, until they were sharing breath. Gibbs held his ground as Tony moved ever closer, cocking his head as he pressed his lips against Gibbs’.

“What did you do that for?” Gibbs asked softly.

“Curious.” 

Tony held tightly onto Gibbs’ hand as he leaned himself back, until he was lying down. With his eyes fixed on Gibbs’, he pulled Gibbs closer to him, pleased when Gibbs came willingly. Spreading his legs apart, he invited Gibbs in closer, moaning in delight when Gibbs nibbled his way across Tony’s neck. Tony ran his fingers through Gibbs’ salt and pepper hair, thinking it was a bit long for a military man and wondering just how long Gibbs had been on leave.

When Tony awoke, he saw Gibbs standing at the entrance of the cave, facing outward. Tony blinked his eyes to make certain he was seeing correctly, that Gibbs was dressed in his Marine camouflage.

Still naked, Tony made his way over to Gibbs, wrapping his arms around the Marine from behind and planting a kiss on Gibbs’ cheek.

“That’s a dangerous move, coming up behind a Marine like that. If I hadn’t heard you, you might have found yourself flung halfway down the mountain.”

“Gibbs, you shaved. Your hair is all, short. And your uniform.” Finding himself at a temporary loss for words, Tony stepped back to admire Gibbs’ new look.

Gibbs sipped his coffee, staring back. “Very observant.”

Running his fingers across the patch on Gibbs’ arm, Tony asked, “What’s all this? All these stripes and the insignia.”

“I’m a Gunnery Sergeant in the United States Marine Corps.”

“You going home, Gibbs?”

“Yeah. I think it’s time. I’ve been offered a job. Starts soon.”

“Promotion?”

“No. I had some thinking to do, Tony. I think I’ve done my duty with the Marines. Time to move on. Time for a change of scenery.”

“I’m about due for a job change as well. I enjoy the travel, but not the company at this one.”

“Do you have military training?”

“No. I was a Phys Ed major turned policeman. This security gig isn’t for me. I’m going to look for work in law enforcement again. What exactly are you going to be doing?”

“Law enforcement.”

“Really?”

“I’ve been offered a job as a Field Agent for NIS.”

“What’s NIS?”

“Naval Investigative Service.”

“Sounds pretty specialized.”

“It is.”

“Well, if I had military training we could have worked together one day.”

“You don’t need military training. Work your way up to detective for a couple years, come find me. We’ll talk.”

“We’re talking now, Gibbs.”

Gibbs turned around to take another long look at Tony. “Get yourself some breakfast and get dressed. If you’re feeling well enough to travel today, it’s about time we headed back.”

Stepping closer, Tony wrapped his arms around Gibbs’ waist and laid his head onto Gibbs’ shoulder. “Maybe we could stay here one more day?”

~~~END~~~  
July 5, 2010


End file.
